Insomnia
by TwentyOnePiplups
Summary: The Captain has been having reoccurring insomnia incidents. Marissa decides to slowly chip at the shields he's put up, and to attempt to comfort Steve through his rough patch. One-shot. StevexOC.


I stretch and yawn, raising my arms above my head. I glance around the room for a moment before deciding to get out of bed. I had just awoken from the best dream I've had in a while because the television in the living room decided to turn on full-blast. I had just been about to kiss the dreamboat when Joan Rivers started screaming about plastic surgery.

I scratch at my arm and fling my legs off the bed, heading to the bathroom. I brush my teeth and lazily comb through my hair with my fingers, not even bothering to get ready yet. I shuffle into the living room, looking to the muted tv. I chuckle. I turn my attention to the man cuddled against the couch, knitting my brow together; t's not even light out yet. I glance towards my stove clock just visible in the other room. I squint my eyes until it becomes clear, it reads 4:30.

I lean over the couch, craning my neck over his shoulder. "Watcha doing?"

Steve bounced in surprise, and I giggle. He sent me a sheepish look, trying to hide the item in his hands. I slide softly onto the cushion next to him, curling my hand around his arm delicately. His bicep tensed at first, but soon after he softened.

"Couldn't sleep." He replied.

I glance at the unplugged speaker connected to the tv then back to his face, cracking a smile. "Trouble with the TV?"

"It was loud, I figured it out." He replied.

"Woke me up." I hummed, peaking across his shoulder. "So what is that?"

Reluctantly Steve brought the notepad from under his arm. I smiled crookedly. "I didn't know you drew... Do you do this most mornings?"

Steve nodded mutely, glancing at the silent TV. I watched him, wondering what he was thinking. I would just check, but I promised not to do that anymore. He would be able to tell, anyway. I could tell that he was severely stressed, however, and that his nightmares tonight were worse than he led on the night I'd caught him before. After ten more minutes I sigh and stand from the couch, heading back to my room.

I rise from my bed once again, sighing. Tonight it was a crash. Not a synthetic, television crash, but more like a dish in my kitchen breaking against the floor crash. I climb out of bed and shuffle my way through the hallway, pushing the swinging kitchen door open. I'm met with a pouting Steve Rogers, scraping together what's left of his microwavable burrito.

"You never use a microwave before?" I grunt, crouching and helping collect the broken shards upon the ground.

Steve looks towards me momentarily, then sighs. "I'm sorry. It seemed easy enough."

I shrug. "Here's a tip; it's hot." Silence. "And it's alright."

Steve dumped the contents into the trash bin, and I followed suit. As I dumped the glass away, a shard twisted funnily and sliced across my palm. I instantly hissed, surprised and not mentally prepared. I sent a distress signal accidentally, and immediately watched it effect Steve. He jumped in surprise, then hurried to my drawers, easily finding my first aid kit. I frowned, feeling slightly guilty.

Steve gingerly took my hand in his, "It's not bad."

I nod. "I made you panic, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. It was a gut reaction."

Steve nods, still cleaning the thin slice. I tilted my head, watching him intently. I liked seeing him, knowing him. This seemed to be the best thing that had come out of my condition. Joining the Avengers initiative proved to be beneficial in many ways with my situation, but having the opportunity to be with Steve was by far the best perk. And since they appointed us and Bruce (who already escaped my house) to live together until further notice, I've had a better way to get to know him.

"You're getting pretty familiar with my drawers," I said with a light smile.

Steve raised his eyes to mine then back down to watch his work. "I guessed."

I nodded, watching him wrap the wound. "Thank you. So 3:30 this time?"

He sighed and repeated last night's answer. "Couldn't sleep."

I nodded, keeping quiet. He finished dressing my hand and clamped the wrappings shut, carefully packing the remaining away. I stood and opened the freezer, snatched up a burrito and waved Steve over.

"Alright, I'm teaching you how to make a non-freezer burnt burrito, then we're watching Harry Potter, because you need to."

Steve cracked a smile and I caught my breath. I felt my cheeks grow warm as I shot him one back.

"That's alright," Steve replied, standing from the kitchen chair, "I'll take you up on that burrito, but you should get some rest."

I sighed, but nodded.

The next night I didn't wait for a loud noise, instead I plopped myself onto the couch. I prepared myself the day before for an all nighter, determined to stay with him this time. I sat for a while, waiting, but became bored, so I decided to indulge in a late-night episode of Family Feude. Fifteen minutes in I heard a creaking, followed by socked tip-toeing. I giggled at the thought of Steve _tip-toeing._

He paused, hearing my laugh. "Marissa?"

"Rogers," I saluted.

He tangled his eyebrows together I watched as his eyes caught sight of my bare legs and he quickly averted his gaze, a blush on his face. He shuffled his hair, stepping around and plopping onto the couch. I offered him a blanket, to which he accepted gratefully. He snuggled stiffly into the couch. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, clearing my throat.

"So, nightmare?" I asked cautiously.

He stiffened, clearly unhappy I had decided to pry tonight. He didn't meet my eyes. "Something like that."

I understood now. Steve was strong, he could sleep through the nightmares. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Memories?"

He took a sharp intake of breath through his nose. I could tell he was trying not to blow up. "Yeah."

Family Feude ended, soon another two episodes followed, and our conversation hadn't progressed anymore. I decided to take my defeat, brushing my hair out of my eyes and folding my blanket up. I licked my bottom lip and gave him a tight smile. I dared something I thought I'd never have the guts to do- I wrapped my arms around his torso and rested my head against his chest, giving him a quick hug. I released him, and smiled when I noticed his wide eyed expression. I went a step further and plopped a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Goodnight," I said, turning to walk to my room.

He caught my hand, not allowing me to walk away.

I turned, catching his nervous, almost sheepish expression. "H-Henry Porter?"

I giggled, sitting back down. "Harry Potter."


End file.
